


Five Dates: Ginny and Blaise

by smithandbarrowman



Series: Five Dates [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 15:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17563016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithandbarrowman/pseuds/smithandbarrowman
Summary: It didn't take five dates...it took much longer. Ginny was Reluctant, but Blaise was persistent.





	Five Dates: Ginny and Blaise

* * *

 

******** GINNY ********

 

* * *

 

What the hell had I been I thinking? I was as hung-over as all hell and had to be at work in an hour. In fact, hung-over may not have been correct; still drunk may have been closer to the truth. 

And I put the blame solely on Pansy. Our friendship had only just gained legs, and I hadn’t wanted to be a bad sport and leave early, so I had made the decision to stay.  

It had been a bad decision. 

Just a few drinks, she had said, just one more, she had said. And then one more led to two more, and then three more, and then we were rolling home at four a-m on a Tuesday morning after almost drinking the pub dry. 

And now, I had to be professional and coherent and articulate, three things which I was certain I was not capable of. Not today, and today was a big day. It was the day that I had been dreading, the one I had been putting off in the hope that they would cancel, but much to my disappointment, they hadn’t. So, today I had no choice but to interview the snakes. 

I groaned and threw my arms over my face; Pansy was a dead woman when I next saw her.  

I swore and forced myself to sit up, shoving down the nauseous feeling that churned in my stomach, and looked at the clock; I’d had four hours sleep, my head was pounding, and I now had less than an hour to get ready and be in their office, looking presentable and not hung-over. 

Pansy was definitely a dead woman.

I set the coffee to brew while I showered, the hot water doing nothing to drown the raging headache that was pounding my brain, and my stomach was still waging a war with its contents. I had no potions to cure this, and even if there were any in my flat, I was always cautious; George still couldn’t be trusted not to swap a pepper-up potion for something that might have the opposite effect and make you vomit. I shook my head; _vomiting on the snakes, wouldn’t that be brilliant?_  

When I had been handed this assignment, I thought it was a joke; interviews with the war survivors, the war survivors who were Hogwarts students at the time. The Daily Prophet wanted fluffy, where-are-they-now stories, and tasked me with them. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had been the first interview, but sitting in front of my friends and asking them questions I already knew the answers to had been ridiculous. As had been the interview with Neville and Luna. Pansy’s had been a little better, but with our burgeoning friendship, some questions regarding her years at Hogwarts had been a little awkward. Some interviews hadn’t been as bad; those people I had been at school with but hadn’t been friends with had gone smoothly. But today. Today was the one I had been dreading. 

Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini; the two people I seriously did not want to interview.

I had tried to get out of it, complaining to my editor that the pair of them hated me while we were at school, that they spoke of my family like we were beneath them, despite our pure-blood heritage. He had simply smiled and explained that since I was now friends with Pansy Parkinson, Mr Malfoy and Mr Zabini shouldn’t be an issue for me. I had balked at his comment and he had laughed, explaining that as an investigative journalist, it was his job to know these things, and I should learn to do the same.

I had scowled at him, saying a few choice words under my breath as I left his office.

And now, I stood scowling again, shuffling through my notes in my kitchen as I downed my second cup of coffee. The questions I had come up with, now just seemed ridiculous and unintelligent, and ridiculous and unintelligent were two things I didn’t want to appear to be in front of them. Well, in front of Zabini, anyway.   

Blaise had been something of an anomaly in my life of late. He had appeared at several of my Quidditch matches, had taken up our offer of drinks at the pub on more than one occasion, and had taken an odd interest in my work. It was confusing, and I wasn’t sure exactly what to make of it.

Was he simply being friendly? Was he simply seeing that we were all trying to put the past behind us and move on? Was he playing some silent Slytherin game and taking the piss without me knowing?

Hermione had noticed – of course she had – and had commented on it, telling me that she thought he was being genuine, and she also wondered if there was much more to his interest than just being friends. I had told her she was being ridiculous and had waved her off in a flippant manner, but what I hadn’t told her was that I had wondered the same. 

I also hadn’t told her that Blaise Zabini had been making almost nightlycameos in my dreams. His sweet, charming smile, his low, deep voice, his mischievous dark eyes, had all woken me on many a night, leaving me sweaty and wanting and very unsatisfied.

Why Blaise Zabini had taken an interest in me was a complete mystery.  If any other guy had been paying me as much attention as Blaise had been, I would have asked him directly what the hell he wanted from me, but with Blaise, I was thrown off my game. 

I hadn’t given him any reason to pursue me, hadn’t shown any real interest in him other than to be polite and civil whenever we were all together. And in all honesty, I had never even looked at him as potential boyfriend material.  

But his undivided attention to me, and his appearance in my dreams had me questioning everything I thought I wanted in my life.  

I picked up my notes and crumpled them into a ball, throwing it across the room, growling in frustration. 

My reluctance to interview the snakes was partly because of our past, but I was also reluctant to interview them because I didn’t want to have to sit across from Blaise Zabini and think of all those things he did to me in my dreams.

* * *

 

******* BLAISE *******

 

* * *

 

My nerves were jumping and I could hardly sit still. The work sitting on my desk was a write-off, and I’d been pacing around my office like a madman for the last hour. Draco had abandoned me, telling me that this interview was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard of and he wondered why it was that I had agreed to it. I had tried to convince him once more that it would be good PR, but he still refused, telling me in terms that were as clear as crystal that he _wouldn’t be a fucking part of it._

So, I was on my own. And - not that I would ever admit it - I had never been so terrified in my life. 

Ginny Weasley, the fiery, red-headed, ball-buster would be here in minutes, to do exactly that: bust my balls. Or at least that was how it felt. Pure-blood Weasley, from a long line of pure-bloods, and yet I had treated her like shit. And what made that fact worse was that I never cared about blood status. Never. Pure-blood, half-blood, muggle-born. None of it had ever mattered. But, unfortunately, I had still looked at her if she were beneath me.  

But now. Now things were different. I no longer _thought_ her beneath me, instead I now _wanted_ her beneath me. 

She was beautiful, had grown into her own skin since our school days, and filled it out perfectly. She had an amazing arse – which I had found myself looking at every time I saw her - and a smoking hot body. And she had the best pair of tits I had ever seen. Not that I had actually seen them. But tight t-shirts and low-cut blouses had allowed my imagination to run wild.

And the brassy attitude she had just made me want her more. I loved women who weren’t afraid to speak their minds, who called people out on their shit, who were smart and didn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinion of them. And she was certainly all of that. 

It was why I had wanted Draco to be a part of this interview. He would be a buffer, not that she was even aware of my feelings, but he would have been nonetheless. And I was well aware that my feelings would not be reciprocated. 

This interview was definitely not her doing and I knew that she would be here under sufferance. Sure, we had changed, we all had, and sure we could nod our heads in acknowledgment in passing, and even on occasion, stop and say hello. But despite all this, I predicted that this interview would be awkward and uncomfortable. 

I glanced at the clock, clenching my teeth and turning to stare out the window. I just wished she would hurry the fuck up and get here so we could get this over with and put me out of my misery.  

“Why are you pacing your office like a wanker?”  

I looked up to see Draco leaning against the door frame, smirking at me. 

“Did you change your mind?” I squared my shoulders and shoved my hands in my pockets, ignoring his question, but he just laughed.

“No. This interview is your thing, and I can see that you’re nervous,” he stepped just inside the door and shot me a look that told me he knew exactly what was on my mind. “Why _are_ you nervous, Zabini?” 

I cleared my throat and shrugged, “I’m not nervous.” 

“Oh, you’re nervous, alright,” He was still smirking, “And I don’t think this is _just_ an interview. Why is it that Weasley junior has got you so freaked out?” 

“I’m not freaked out,” I answered too quickly, and pinched my leg to stop myself from punching his smug face. I shook my head, and huffed out a laugh, trying to make light of it. “I mean, maybe I am freaked out. I wasn’t the nicest person to her.”

“No, you weren’t, but that’s not it.” He shoved his hands in his own pockets, “You like this girl. When did this happen?” 

“What? _I like her_? No.” I said, but even I could hear the waver in my voice.

He laughed, “Oh, my bad. I can see that it’s _way_ more than _like_. And it also explains the lack of female company that you usually keep.” 

I stared at him, my jaw tightening. He was right. Until a few months ago, Ginny Weasley wasn’t even on my radar. But when Pansy shocked both Draco and I, telling us that Granger and Weasley had invited Daphne and her to join them on some girl’s night out so they could finally bury the animosity that had built up between them, I became intrigued.  

I began to watch her. I secretly attended her Quidditch matches, I hid in the shadows of the pub they always met at on a Friday night, until they asked me to join them, and I took a close interest in her career as a journalist. And in doing so, I discovered that she was extremely talented in all aspects of her life. She was also had a spine of steel, so confident and fierce, which made her all the more attractive. 

Draco was watching me as my thoughts rolled around in my head. I sighed, “Fine. You’re right, and I have no problem admitting that. I do like her. She’s fucking brilliant, and I’m sorry that I’ve not noticed her before now.” 

He grinned, about to respond, no doubt with a heap of shit for my being so smitten, but the crystal ball on my desk glowed green, interrupting us. Fog swirled inside the glass and my assistant’s voice spoke.

“Mr Zabini? Ms Weasley is here to see you.” 

“Thanks, Jacob. I’ll be out in a second.”  

Draco smirked again and headed for the door, “I’m actually sorry I won’t get to see this.” 

“Fucker,” I swore under my breath and scowled as he disappeared down the hallway, laughing. 

I took a breath, straightened my tie, and told myself to knock it off and to stop being such a dickwad. I was more than capable of handling myself around women, this wouldn’t be any different.  

I strode down the hallway and rounded the corner to where Jacob’s desk was and came to a screeching halt. 

_Well, fuck me backwards._  

Maybe I had been wrong, maybe she did know how I felt because looking at here right now, I was as sure as hell that she was teasing me. She looked beautiful, stunning actually. Her hair fell over her shoulders in loose waves, her bright brown eyes were rimmed with long, dark lashes so thick she had no need for eye make-up. She wore a simple black satin t-shirt with a deep V-neck, slim black trousers, black heels, and a long, white knitted jacket. It was simple, professional, and as surprisingly, sexy as hell. 

My dick twitched, instantly growing hard at the sight of her, and I cursed silently.

_Don’t get a hard on, for fucks sake. You’re not fucking fifteen._  

I walked over to her and her scent hit me, not the flowery aroma of her perfume, but the scent of her underneath it, and my cock grew even harder. 

I cursed myself again. _What the fuck was wrong with me?_

I extended my hand and my skin grew warm when she took my hand in hers. “Ginny,” My voice was dry and hoarse. I took a breath and tried again. “Ginny, great to see you.” 

“Zabini,” She smiled and nodded. “Is Malfoy joining us?”

I shook my head and let out a nervous laugh, “No. He’s terrified of you and is now hiding.” 

“So, just us then?” She smirked and raised an eyebrow.  

I swallowed. She was going to be the death of me. 

I cleared my throat, and held out my arm, indicating towards my office. “ _Ah_ , right then. My office?”  

“Lead the way.”  

She looked at me in a way that made me think she knew. She knew I was nervous and knew those nerves had nothing to do with this interview. _And_ I was sure she knew my dick was being a douche and thinking it was getting some action.  

Stopping outside my office, I held the door open, and I had to suppress a groan when she flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked past me. Her scent, her low-cut top, the gentle sway of her hips as she walked further into the room; I was about ready to explode, and her innocent gestures weren’t helping. 

I followed her, closing the door without taking my eyes off her. She looked amazing, confident, sure, and with an expression that dared anyone to mess with her. She also looked like she’d rip my arms off and slap me with them for being such an idiot. 

“Everything okay?” She asked with amusement sparkling in her eyes. “You seem nervous.” 

I gripped the back of my neck and squeezed my eyes closed. _She definitely knew._ I managed to laugh. “Well, Weasley, I know you’re a ball-buster, and since I was a complete arse to you all those years ago, I’m very nervous about what you’re going to ask me.”  

“You have nothing to worry about.” She said with a laugh, and I had to suppress another groan as the sound went straight to my already hard cock. “This will be purely professional, no personal questions.” 

I led her over to the couch, urging my cock to calm the fuck down, and sat down, crossing my legs in an attempt to hide the evidence of what she was doing to me. She sat at the opposite end, leaving what seemed like a thousand miles between us, and leaving me with no way to move closer without arousing any suspicion.  

I hadn’t wanted a woman like I wanted her ever in my life. The thought of settling with just one person, of marriage, of kids, had made my spine shudder and my dick shrivel. Who the hell would want that? One person. Just one.  I never understood it, but that was only until now. And the urge to reach out and run my fingers over her cheek almost overwhelmed me. 

I suppressed a groan at the image that flicked through my head; laying her back on the couch, kissing her, peeling her clothes off, touching her thigh, running my hand over her smooth skin, high and higher— 

“ _Um_ , so are you ready?” 

Her voice broke into my daydream, pulling me back to reality. She was smiling at me in a way which had me wondering if I should brush up on my Occlumency skills.  

“Yes,” I said, straightening my spine and hoping that she would go easy on me. “I’m ready.” 

Tapping her quill on the note book that was resting on her thigh, she twisted her mouth thoughtfully and then asked, “So, why did you think it okay to treat me like shit while we were at school?”  

I balked, my mouth dropping open in shock. “I, um, well...” I stammered and she laughed. 

“Just kidding,” she was grinning at my stunned expression, “Gotcha though.” 

I narrowed my eyes at her, reaching over to pinch her knee, “Not funny, Weasley.” 

She smiled but I couldn’t help but notice her sharp intake of breath at my touch.

Our eyes met, and a moment of silence passed between us. Her reaction had been unexpected; was I wrong? Was it possible that I wasn’t the only one in the room who had feelings that went beyond friendship? Was she just simply doing a better job of hiding it? 

The nerves that had been twisting my stomach all morning suddenly disappeared. I leaned back, crossing my legs at my feet and stretching my arm across the back of the couch; this was an interesting turn of events. My own confidence came flooding back, and I felt pleased with myself that I had this effect on her. 

“The decision to start a potions company was unexpected from you and Malfoy,” she said out of the blue, her voice not quite as sure and confident as it had been a few second earlier. “You both come from families with business that have been handed down through the generations, what prompted you both to start out on your own?” 

I bit down on my smile, she wasn’t quite squirming in her seat, but she was close. That tiny moment of silence had caused her confidence to waver, and I would make the most of it. 

“Old school family businesses have no interest for either of us. And in all honesty, I was concerned from the outset of just what it was that Lucius Malfoy was trading in. Although,” I paused, biting down another smile, “with Lucius seeming to have a proclivity for charming muggle artefacts, your own father may have a better knowledge of just what it was he was up to. Brilliant man, your father. It took courage to stand up to the likes of Lucius Malfoy, I can see where you get your nerves of steel from.” 

Her cheeks flushed pink at the compliment, and I resisted the urge to laugh as she lowered her gaze and hastily scribbled my answer. 

She cleared her throat, and looked back up at me, and I could see in her eyes the fight to keep calm. “It’s common knowledge that you’re both perfectionists when it comes to your work, and because of that, it has been said that you both can be difficult to work with. Do you agree with that?” 

“That we’re perfectionists, or that we’re difficult?” 

“Both,” she fired back, her nerves were clearly putting her on edge. 

I grinned, “Well, we want our company to be the best it can be, and if that means stepping on a few toes along the way, so be it. No one currently working with us has a problem with how we run things, but if people outside our doors want to label us as difficult, or perfectionists, we have no issues with that. They’re pretty kind terms considering what we’ve been called in the past. 

Her face remained passive, but I noted the tiny twitch of her eye. She knew exactly what I was referring to; we may have been unkind to her and her friends, but we had also been on the receiving end of some name calling. 

“The general feeling is that you’re both too young to be in the potions business, that you’re both inexperienced and can’t compete with the older, established companies. How do you plan on getting people to believe that you’re both capable of becoming a success?”   

“Severus taught us to push the boundaries, to not simply just follow textbooks. So that’s what we’ve been doing; experimenting with new methods and ingredients, and the successes we’ve had so far have us excited to be able to bring a new way of doing things to a generation of people who believe that the old ways of thinking are antiquated and should be left in the past.” 

“Um…” she stumbled and I leaned forward, enjoying the fact that I was throwing her off balance. 

“Do _you_ think we’re too young?” I asked, “Is that _your_ general feeling?”

“Of course not, I definitely don’t agree with the general consensus. I think that you’re both extremely brave for stepping up and doing this.” She paused and then added with a sly grin, “Maybe you should have been Gryffindors.” 

“We would have been disowned,” I laughed. “But thank you for thinking us brave.” 

“I mean it,” She blushed again, but then shook her head slightly and regained her composure. “So, tell me, what is you get up to when you’re not here.” 

The next half-hour passed by quickly, and it seemed less and less like an interview as each minute ticked by. I had assumed she would ask me questions about the war, about my part in it, about how things had been while we were at school, but she didn’t. Instead, she did as she had promised and kept things professional.  She did delve slightly into my personal life, but I got the distinct feeling that none of my answers would make it into the piece she was writing. Her questions definitely were of her own curiosity, not for an exposé on her former classmates.

I watched her as she jotted down my answer to her final question, and then closed up her notebook, dropping it into her bag. 

_Fuck_ , she was done. 

“Thank you,” she said, picking up her bag and getting to her feet. “I hope you don’t feel too violated **.”**  

I stood too, blocking her from walking past me; for all the nerves I had been feeling before she arrived, now I didn’t want her to go. “No, you were very gentle with me, thank you.” 

She smiled up at me, the brightness of her brown eyes making my heart actually hurt. She was so fucking pretty, and all I wanted to do was lean in and kiss her.  

 “Thanks again for doing this.” She stepped around me and headed for the door.

“So you’re heading back to the Daily Prophet now?” I asked, stepping quickly towards the door and reaching for the handle, trying to look like I was being a gentleman and opening the door for her when in reality I just wanted her to stay.  

“Yes,” she answered, “You were the last interview, so now I have to piece them all together to make a fluffy, happy story for our readers.” 

“I have no doubt that you’ll write the perfect piece.”  

She smiled and then glanced at my hand on the door. She wanted to leave, and I was standing there like an idiot.  

_Fuck_. 

“Do you have plans tonight?” I blurted out without thinking “Because, _ah_ , I was wondering if you weren’t doing anything, if you would have dinner with me?”  

Her mouth dropped open, and she looked stunned at my offer. 

“Sorry,” I winced, releasing the door handle and gripping the back of my neck. “Too forward?”

“No, it’s fine,” she said and my heart leapt. “But I do have Quidditch practice tonight, and there’s no getting out of it.” 

 “Maybe some other time then?”

“Thank you again for the interview,” she said, ignoring my question and opening the door. “It was great.”  

I nodded, feeling completely deflated, and watched as she began to walk down the hallway. She stopped, and turned back to face me.  

“We finally convinced Hermione to go to one of my Quidditch matches. She’ll be there in the V.I.P box with Ron and Harry on Saturday.” She smiled at me, her cheeks turning pink, “I’ll get you some tickets to join them.”

I wanted to punch the air like the teenager I had turned into. “Thanks Ginny, that would be brilliant.” 

She nodded, pausing to stare at me for several seconds before turning and resuming her walk towards the exit. 

I shoved my hands in my pockets, a sense of relief filled my chest. She didn’t say no, not technically. And that was a start. 

 

 

* * *

 

******** GINNY ********

 

* * *

 

Blaise was not my boyfriend. He was my friend. Blaise was not my boyfriend. He was my friend. My friend. That was it. We were friends and nothing more.

I groaned. Maybe if I said it once more, I might actually believe it. 

And no matter how many times I did deny what was actually happening between us, it didn’t change the fact that I was waiting, yet again, for him to arrive so we could go on another not-date.  

It had been almost four months since he’d asked me to dinner after our interview for The Daily Prophet, and while I had said _no_ that time, he had been persistent and continued to ask me until I finally said _yes_ a month later. And he had been charming, and sweet, and he had completely swept me off my feet.  

And now, the line I had drawn had become blurred, and I could no longer pretend that I wanted nothing from him beyond friendship. My stomach fluttered every time I thought about him, and my heart twisted every time I saw him and then broke just a little bit every time he left. 

I was only fooling myself when I said that I didn’t have feelings for him; the vivid fantasy life I had begun to dream up was proof of that. Him meeting me, arms outstretched, to comfort me after a Quidditch loss, or him simply kissing me in the middle of the street, not caring who was watching. Or the most common image; us, every single night, curling up in bed together.  

But as blurred as the line I had drawn had become, _that_ was a line we hadn’t yet crossed. It was the one thing that made me nervous, and every time I thought about it with him, the single cell in my brain that was reluctant, would win out, and I began to over analyse, and worry, and wonder just how many other women he had been with. 

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, and groaned. He would be here any second, and I would not start yet another analysis of what this was. I would have dinner with him, again, and then come home and fret about it, again. 

The floo lit up and he stepped out, interrupting my mild anxiety attack. Dressed casually in a dark blue T-shirt, jeans that were well worn with a tear in the knee, and a pair of expensive looking, multi-coloured sneakers, he looked as he always did; like a fucking god. And the smile that greeted me when I finally looked up to his face, was the exact smile that made my heart twist.  

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then stood to greet him, but he instantly knew something was wrong.

“Gin,” he gripped my shoulders and ducked down to looked at me, “What’s wrong?”  

“Thinking too much.”

He took his own deep breath and asked carefully, “About..?”

“Us.” I said, closing my eyes again, “You and me. Where this is going.” I opened my eyes and looked directly at him, “How many other women there have been before me.”

He nodded slowly, and then smiled, “You have some questions?”

“Yeah,” I smiled back, but it was a nervous smile, and he clearly knew it. 

“Change of plans, then” He twisted his lips thoughtfully and then nodded, “There’s a burger place not too far from here, it’s quiet and we can talk there.” 

“Burger place?”

He took both my hands in his, lifting them to his lips, “Ginny Weasley. Pure-blood, Ginny Weasley. Do you not frequent muggle eateries? Or are you too much of a snob for that?” 

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. Blaise Zabini had shown me more of muggle London than I had even seen. He had proved beyond a doubt that he could care less about blood status, and was now - playfully- questioning my stance.

“Disgusting, muggles,” I said and lifted my nose into the air, “Filthy, the lot of them, I don’t know why you associate with them. 

He laughed and leaned down to kiss me. The twist in my heart gripped tighter, and despite the mayhem in my mind, I knew he was the one for me.

“Let’s go,” he said with a devilish grin, “You have questions, and I have the answers.”

 

******* BZGW *******

 

A small bell sounded when Blaise opened the door, and as if sensing my still jumping nerves, he led me to a booth in the back. He was right; the place was quiet, with only a few other diners. Quiet was good. Quiet was what I needed. My heart slowed and my nerves calmed, and I nodded when he ordered burgers and chips, and two beers. 

“So,” he said when then waiter walked away.

“So.” 

“I believe you have some questions?” 

He looked positively amused. He knew I was a control freak - not in Hermione’s league, but a control freak nonetheless. And he also knew that my growing up with six brothers taught me to stand up for myself, but what he didn’t know was that since he had appeared in my world, he had thrown me into complete disarray and I hadn’t been able to control anything in my life. 

He lifted his glass, took a deep drink, and then leaned forward, “And am I safe to presume these questions won’t be fit for publication?”

“How many women have you slept with?” The question was out before I could stop it, but he didn’t seem fazed.

“Jumping right in then,” he chuckled, then shrugged, “Maybe a dozen, possibly a few more than that.” 

“So, you don’t actually know?” My calm faded the tiniest bit.

“Do you want details of every one of them?” He smiled at me and I shook my head. “Ginny, listen. The first time I ever had sex was when I was eighteen. I’m now twenty-four. That’s six years. So, if you do the maths on that, that’s two or three women a year.”

I bit my lip and nodded. _Not so bad. “_ I guess it just sounds like a lot when you actually say it as a whole. _A dozen or more_.” 

“I guess so,” he agreed. “But in reality, not really that many. Some of them were long term, kind of, and the others were simply a one-time deal.”

“And do you remember them all?”

“Honestly, no.” He emptied his glass and signalled for another, then laughed when he realised I had barely touched mine. “Do you want something else? Water, perhaps?” 

I reached over and slapped his arm. “Six brothers,” I reminded him, and then winced. Fred never got the chance to teach me how to drink, and Percy was an old stick in the mud and drank little more than half a glass of wine at Christmas. “Well, _four_ brothers who taught me all about beer.” 

“Sorry,” he said, taking my hand and squeezing it. A quiet moment passed between us and I saw the look in his eye that told me he was genuinely sorry for what had happened to Fred. 

“It’s fine,” I told him. “But what’s not fine is you not remembering any of these women.”  

He sat back and smirked. “That’s not what I said.” 

I frowned. “I asked if you remembered any of them, and you said, _honestly no._ ” 

“You asked if I remembered _all of them_ ,” he pointed out, “I remember most of them, but no, I don’t remember _all_ of them. And I’m sure some of those women don’t remember me. Do you remember any of the guys you slept with on a drunken one-night stand four years ago?” 

My cheeks heated up and I quickly shook my head. _No, I didn’t. I hadn’t ever had a drunken one-night stand._

“Right,” he said, not seeming to notice my embarrassment, or simply choosing to ignore it. “So, having slept with someone, and both parties not wanting anything more than that, isn’t a bad thing.” 

Shrugging, I murmured, “I guess.” 

“Ginny, I’m not a playboy, not a womaniser, but I do have a history. Yes, there have been other women, but for the record,” He smiled, and then his eyes dipped to look at my mouth, “it’s been months since I’ve been with anyone.” 

The waiter brought our food, silencing my next question. 

_Months? What did that mean?_  

Was it just the four months since he first asked me to dinner? Or was it longer? Or was he lying, simply trying to impress me and get me into his bed?  

“Eight months,” he said as if reading my thoughts. “Longer than this thing between us started. _Much_ longer.”

“And what is this thing between us?” I picked up a chip and took a bite. “You keep asking me out, but you’ve never pushed for more.”

“I’ve not pushed you, because I’m waiting for you to decide what you want this to be.” He picked up a chip from his own plate and pointed it at me, “I’ve already decided.” 

I stared at him, not sure that I wanted to ask the question that he left hanging, but I forced it out. “What have you decided?” 

“That you, Ginny Weasley, are the only person I want in my life.” He picked up another chip, ate it, and then added, “Ever.”  

“Ever?” I whispered. 

“The only person I want. Ever.” He said. “And I’m sorry if that’s too much for you to take in right now, but it’s how I feel. I like you. I like very much. 

I picked up my beer, drinking half of it in one go. _Shit_. This hadn’t been what I’d expected. I had assumed he had feelings, but to hear him say the words, made me realise that he was in deep. The dinners, the long walks through the city, the funky little shops he would take me to because he knew I would love them. The fact that he attended each and every one of my Quidditch matches. I had assumed this was what he felt, but now I knew. 

“Ever?” I asked again and he smiled.

“I’m not trying to push you to decide what you want, Ginny, but I want this,” he pointed his finger at me and then at himself, “to be more than friends. More than dinners and talking, and hanging out together. Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying doing all of that with you, but I want more.” 

I swallowed the thick lump that had formed in my throat. _More than friends. Could I handle that with Blaise Zabini?_  

I knew that I could. I loved hearing him laugh, and seeing how he reacted to the stupid, irrelevant things I told him, and I had loved getting to know all the little things about him. 

I looked up at him, and in that instant, everything felt right. “I want more too.”

 

* * *

 

******** BLAISE **********

* * *

 

“You okay?” She asked, bumping my shoulder with hers, “You’re awfully quiet. What are you thinking?”

My mind was running so fast, I couldn’t pick one single thought out. I wanted everything with her, but I didn’t want to push her. I’d waited months for her to realise how she felt and I was determined to hold onto the last thread of control I had. But it was impossible to _not_ think of what I would do to her when I finally got her into bed. 

“Nothing,” I said and then pausing, not wanting to sound desperate, but unable to help myself, I added, “Everything." 

We turned the corner and continued onto her street. Her flat was about halfway down, and I didn’t want to seem desperate and slow my pace. Despite the fact that we had established that we wanted to be something more than just friends, I was certain that didn’t mean she would ask me in. It had been baby steps with her, patience and time, waiting for her to catch up with me.

“Everything?” She asked when we reached her front door. “Did you want to be more specific?” 

I reached my hands around her waist, pulling her closer. “I can’t be more specific.” 

“Blaise. Tell me.”

I smiled down at her. It was impossible not to; she was fucking beautiful. She’d put on only the tiniest amount of makeup, her hair was once more in the soft, loose curls I so loved. And when my eyes dropped to her mouth, her tongue peeked out quickly, wetting her lips.  

I took a breath. I had been honest with her all night, there was no reason to stop now.

“I’m thinking of what I would like to do with you.”

She leaned into me and my hands slipped to her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. “What _would_ you like to do with me?” 

I groaned and dropped my head to her shoulder, “ _Ginny_.” 

Her hands slid around my collar, her fingertips stroking the back of my neck, “Did you think we were going to have sex tonight?”  

I pressed my lips to the side of her throat, pulling her flush against me, letting her know that was exactly what I was thinking. “Yes.” I said into her skin, “But not if you’re not ready.”

She stepped away from me and reached for the door. I watched her, my heart hammering in my chest, as she looked up at me and smiled. “Did you want to come inside?” 

My heart leapt into my throat. I wanted to shove her through the door and fuck her right there on the floor, but I held myself back.  “Are you sure?” 

She reached her hand out and I took it. “Yes. I’m sure.” 

“Ginny, if I come inside, I won’t be able to stop.” 

She nodded and pulled me towards her. “I know.”

 

 

******* BZGW *******

 

 

She had only just shut the door and I was on her, pressing her back into the hard wood, my mouth coving hers. I ran my hand up her side and over the curve of her breast, running the pad of my thumb over the already tight peak of her nipple and swallowing her gasp. The tiny sound shot through me, filling my chest. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.” I murmured, pressing my hand more firmly against her breast.

“Blaise, I don’t—” She gasped again, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I stepped closer, pressing the hard shape of my erection into her stomach.  

“I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” I said, “I fucking get hard just thinking about you.”

I bent, sucking on her neck, her jaw, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth. I ran my hands across her stomach, going lower and unbuttoning her jeans and shoving them down her hips.

“No,” she groaned and I immediately froze. I lifted my head to look at her and found her smiling. “Not, _no._ I just meant not here.”

“Thank fuck,” I growled, “Where?"

“My bedroom," She said and I raised an eyebrow. She looked questioningly at me for several seconds and then laughed. “Oh, right. You’ve not been there.” 

“Show me,” I demanded softly, “Show me Ginny Weasley’s bedroom.” 

She pushed me back and took my hand, leading me up the stairs and to her bedroom. The room was simple. A large bed against the one wall, a dresser and a large chair piled high with clothes. 

“Ginny Weasley’s bedroom,” She said and I laughed. “Is it all that you imagined?” 

“It’s more than I could have ever imagined,” I said, stepping closer to her, my eyes never leaving hers. “ _You_ are more than I could have here imagined.” 

I pulled her into my arms, wrapping my hands around the nape of her neck and threading my fingers into her hair. I pulled lightly, titling her head back, watching as she bit her lip, a nervous flash sparking in her eyes, gone as quick as it came.

“Are you sure about this?” I hovered my mouth over hers feeling her warm breath waft across my lips. I traced her lip with my finger, “Are you sure you want me in here?” 

Her _yes_ came out as a breathy whisper, and I dipped the tip of the finger I held against her lips inside her mouth. She wrapped her lips around it and sucked, causing me to groan with the thought of what else she might wrap those lips around. 

I wrapped my other arm around her, my fingers gripping the waistband of her jeans, shoving at them, finishing what I had started downstairs. She kicked off her shoes, wriggling her hips as the denim slid down her legs and stepped out of them. She smiled up at me and reached for the hem of her shirt, puling it over her head and tossing it to the floor. 

She was gorgeous. Her skin was like cream, so smooth and pale, her hair falling over her shoulders, the simple bra she wore stretched across her full breasts.   

“Shit,” I swore quietly, “You’re fucking incredible.” 

I didn’t let her respond, capturing her lips and thrusting my tongue inside the velvet warmth of her mouth, groaning at the soft touch of her own tongue against mine. A needful shiver sped throughout my entire body at her tiny, tentative touch, and I had her undressed and sprawled across the bed in no time, my hands moving like lightning as I removed her bra, then pushed her knickers off her hips and down her legs.

She shivered when I kissed her chest, the valley between her breast, my hands cupping the soft flesh of her breasts. She arched her back, gasping, when my tongue circled her nipple, and she nearly shot off the bed when I drew her nipple into my mouth. 

I pulled back and a tiny mewl of disappointment left her. I kissed her quickly and stood, gripping the back of my T-shirt and tugging it over my head.  She bit her lip, watching as my hands went to the buttons of my jeans, her eyes going wide as I shoved them off my hips and kicked them across the floor. Her eyes dropped to the front of my boxers, her breath shaky as I lowered them, my cock springing free. 

“I won’t be held responsible for what happens if you keep staring at me like that,” I told her, crawling back on the bed to lay beside her. I cupped her jaw, bringing her face to mine and I kissed her gently, her hand covering mine. 

“Blaise, this is… _oh_!”

She gasped when my hand slipped down the flat planes of her belly, tangling in the soft hair at the apex of her thighs, before parting her with one finger. I smiled. She was soaked, incredibly so, and my cock grew tighter when I slipped my finger lower, searching her folds, and stroking gently. She closed her eyes when my finger circled her clit, around and around, again and again until she was writhing in pleasure. She lifted her hips, arching into my hand as I pressed down with my thumb and slipped one finger inside her.

“Oh, fuck!” she breathed, her hips rolling against my hand, chasing the climax that was building inside her. She reached for me, and our mouths crashed together, her tiny moans vibrating along my lips and sent a shudder along my spine. 

I broke from her lips, growling, “Come for me, Ginny.”

She gasped, crying out as her orgasm tore through her, tremors shaking her entire body. Her hands grasped at me, pulling my mouth back to hers, kissing me deeply, and then shoving me away. Her breath was coming in tiny puffs, her body slowly subsiding from her climax. 

“Stunning.” I kissed her, pulling my fingers slowly out of her body, and crawled over her. Her face had changed. The blissful look was now one of apprehension. 

I knew she was worried about how I would fit inside her. She was tiny and the look on her face when she first saw me let me know that she had never been with anyone as big before. I leaned down and kissed her gently, silently reassuring her.   

I rested my palms on the mattress either side of her head, pressing the head of my cock against her entrance, and leaned down to kiss her. Her breath came out in a rush against my lips and I felt her tense as I thrust into her body, a sharp cry of agony tore from her throat and she shoved at my chest. 

“Ginny, _fuck!_ Did I hurt you?” I stilled instantly, regret tearing through me. I should have gone slower, made her come on my fingers again, used my mouth to get her wetter, anything to not hear her cry of pain. 

She breathed in deeply and blew it out slowly, “I’m...I’m fine.” 

I remained still, watching her; she was anything but fine. I could see tears forming just below the surface, and my heart clenched as a single tear spilled over and slipped down her cheek.  

“I hurt you.” I said quietly, gently covering her body with mine, and slowly running my fingers through her hair, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you what?” She turned her head to look away from me, but I cupped her jaw and brought her gaze back to me.  

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”

“Would it have mattered?” She tried to look away again, but I held her face, locking my eyes on hers. 

“Of course it would have,” I kissed the tear from her cheek, “I wouldn’t have been so rough, I would have taken my time with you. I would have gotten you so wet, there would have been no pain.” 

I began to withdraw from her body and the look of pain on her face turned to one of panic. She clutched at my shoulders, her legs wrapping around my hips, a gasp of desperation filling the space between us.  

“No.” She lifted her hips, chasing me, “Don’t stop.” 

“Ginny—" I began, but she cut me off. 

“Blaise, don’t stop. _Please_ don’t. I want this with you.” 

I had no answer for her plea, besides a harsh groan that vibrated deep inside my chest. I was barely holding it together; she felt so good, so impossibly tight clenched around me. The muscles in my arms and legs were tense, trembling with a restraint I never knew I possessed. My cock was throbbing inside her and it took everything I had to not pull back and slam into her, to not simply take her virginity like a wild beast.  

A virgin. I could hardly believe it. Ginny Weasley. Strong, confident, brash, takes-no-shit Ginny Weasley. Shock had almost rendered me speechless, but I managed to ask, “Are you sure?”  

“Yes,” she breathed, “Make love to me, Blaise. Please.” 

I still didn’t move, and she smiled up at me, reaching her hand to my face and caressing my cheek. I turned into her palm, kissing her warm skin, and almost lost control when her voice wavered, asking me again; _Please, Blaise?_  

Seeing her come undone around my fingers had been stunning to watch; the beautiful expression on her face, the way her body had tensed, the clench of her inner walls. And now, the feeling of those same walls clenching and throbbing around my cock had me wanting to watch her fall over and over and over again. 

Slowly, carefully, with the patience of a saint, I slid from her, inch by inch before slowly pushing back inside her, repeating the slow movement again and again until she relaxed around me and I was finally seated completely inside her.

“Ginny?” I whispered and she let out a breath, “Alright?”

She nodded, “You don’t have to be so gentle.”

“Yes, I do.” Leaning down, I kissed her, slow and deep, her lips warm, her tongue wicked and teasing as it flicked against mine.  

“I promise I won’t break.” She whispered and I groaned. 

Every instinct was telling me to pound into her, to fuck her hard and fast, to watch her fall for the first time with any man inside her, and it was that that fact alone which was making it harder and harder to not follow through.

But I wouldn’t. Not this time. Not her _first_ time. She deserved more than that. I needed to take my time, needed to learn her body, needed to let her discover what she liked. 

I moved through her slowly, her whispery moans and shuddered breaths, her hands sliding her down my back, her fingernails digging into my arse, almost breaking my resolve to take my time. She felt incredible; so tight and hot, and her soft wall pulsing around me had my orgasm flickering along my spine. I clenched my jaw, and cursed myself; _fuck no, not yet._  

I dropped my face into her neck and groaned, “You feel too good.” 

Gripping my arse harder, she lifted her hips to mine, her voice urgent when she pleaded with me again. “ _Please_ , Blaise.”  

The look on her face undid me.  

I increased my pace; her long, toned legs instinctively sliding along my ribs, her hips rising higher, pulling me deeper inside her. I groaned her name - my orgasm was so fucking close it was embarrassing - and slid in and out of her, faster and faster. Her hands lifted from my arse, curling around my shoulders, pulling me down to her.  

“Blaise,” she moaned quietly against my ear and my skin grew tight, I was close, too fucking close, and then without warning, I was falling. 

“ _Fuuuuuccckkk_.” The word was a long, frustrated, drawn-out groan. 

Beneath me, she arched and rocked, chasing the friction she needed, but it was too late.  

I’d fucking come. I’d fucking come before I’d even gotten her close.  

I swore again and she stilled beneath me.  

“Blaise?” 

I circled her head with my arms and pressed my forehead hers, “Sorry,” I whispered, my breath short and panting. “Ginny, I’m so sorry.” 

Her hands slid slowly down my back, “For what?” 

“I was too quick,” I breathed, “You were so tight, you felt…it was too quick.” 

She cupped my jaw, lifting my head to look at me. “I made to come too quickly?” 

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ve never…not that fast.” 

She grinned, “So it’s not usually over so soon?” 

I narrowed my eyes at her, “You’re not teasing me, are you Weasley?”

She laughed, “No. I would never.” 

I grabbed her hands, holding them above her head, my hips pressing down on hers. I was still seated inside her, still hard. I shifted, moving slowly. “Do you want to learn what happens when you tease me, Weasley?” 

She grinned, rolling her hips, “Show me, Zabini.” 

I slid slowly out of her, pausing with just the tip of my cock inside her. I grinned down at her and thrust back into her, hard and fast. She cried out, her hands squeezing mine, her legs tensing against my sides. She squirmed beneath me, her eyes wide as I slid out of her again, and slammed back in. 

“Is this what you wanted?” I growled against her ear, “Did you want me to fuck you?” I thrust into her again, “Hard?” 

“Yes,” she groaned, twisting her hands, trying to pull away from my grip. “Let me touch you.” 

“No.” I gripped her hands tighter, pressing them hard into the pillow, and fucking into her, “You teased me, Weasley, you don’t get to touch me.” 

A hot flush crawled up her neck and she growled in frustration, her hands pushing back against mine. I grinned, almost laughing at her frustration, and began to move in a steady rhythm. Hard, solid strokes that had tiny sounds of pleasure slipping from her, and her hips rolling to meet mine. 

I swept her damp hair from her forehead and kissed her hot skin. I sucked her tongue into my mouth, loving the tiny gasps and harsh moans that were spilling from her, loving the feel of how soft she was, how responsive she was. 

“You okay?” I asked, slowing my thrusts, reminded myself that this was still her first time, and she nodded, “Not too sore?” 

“This is perfect,” she whispered, “So fucking perfect.” 

“Yeah?” My pride swelled, and all thoughts of my earlier performance – or lack thereof – disappeared. 

“Yeah,” she said, “I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Hard and soft,” she moved in time with me, “I feel stretched, so full.” She looked up at me, “It feels right.” 

And I knew exactly how she felt. It was something I had never felt with any other woman. The feeling of this being so good, of this being so right, that it hurt? That was something new. Something I had no experience with, but it was definitely something I wanted to explore with her. 

Her hands squeezed mine, “Blaise, let me touch you, please.” 

I smiled, leaning down to kiss and her released her hands. She instantly grasped my shoulders, sliding her hands down my back to grip my arse, pulling my hard against her. 

I got the message, and began to move, pulling her leg up and pressing her knee to her shoulder, driving into her, fucking her as hard and fast as I could. 

Her skin flushed as her orgasm built, her muscles tightening and her body shaking. A sheen of sweat covered her skin, and she was groaning, babbling unintelligible sounds, begging me for more and harder and faster. 

“Almost there,” I whispered, “Fuck, Ginny, you’re almost there.” 

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes squeezed shut, her body bowing off the bed, my name leaving her in a loud scream. I groaned at the rhythmic pulsing of her pussy around me and buried my face in her neck, bucking wildly against her and coming hard inside her. 

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders as I collapsed onto her. We were both breathing hard, our skin hot and sweaty, both still trembling with aftershocks. 

“Blaise,” she gasped, her entire body relaxing beneath me, and I looked up at her. Her eyes were wide and gleaming, her skin was flushed and her hair was a wild mess around her head. She was stunning. I leaned down to kiss her, lingering over her lips, not wanting the euphoric feeling to ever leave. 

“Okay?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Was it good?” 

I grinned, “It was fucking fantastic. _You_ were fucking fantastic.” 

“Really?” She ran her hands along my back, searching my face, waiting for me to tell her.

I circled her head with my arms, and leaned my forehead against hers. “Ginny, how do _you_ feel?”

She bit her lip and the grinned, “I feel amazing. I feel like I could run a marathon.” 

I laughed, “Well, double it for me. That was insane. You were fucking perfect.”

I moved to roll off her, but she stopped me, wrapping her legs around me, and gripping my shoulders. “No, stay there, please.” 

“Gin, I’m too heavy.” I tried to move, but she whimpered, making me laugh. 

“ _Please,”_ She whined sweetly, “I like you on me. You make me feel safe.” 

My heart twisted; yes, this woman would be the absolute death of me. 

“Okay.” I relented, leaning down to kissed her. “Just a few more minutes.” 

She smiled, and it was a smile that said she knew she owned my arse. 

And after what just happened, she most certainly did.

 

* * *

 

******** BLAISE  **********

* * *

 

I turned in my seat, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous farce that was playing out in front of me. Draco had become the dating guru, taking Hermione on one epic date after another, and this was no different. His planned proposal couldn’t just be a simple question, he had to make it another epic adventure that would make the rest us of all look pathetic in comparison. 

I hated him; the smug bastard. He’d gotten the woman of his dreams, and she was perfect for him in every way. She was his equal in everything – smart with a sharp business mind, and she didn’t take any of his shit. It was brilliant to watch him almost fall at her feet in worship. 

"You look like you're about to faint, Malfoy," Potter chuckled. "Do you need some water?" 

Draco scowled, but his eyes were smiling. His performance was award winning and I had to look away so as not to laugh, but I couldn’t stop my smile as I saw Ginny finally walk through the door.  

"Draco?" Daphne said, her face a picture of concern. "Are you okay? You're very pale." 

"Who's very pale?" Ginny approached the table, and was looking directly at Malfoy as she sat beside me. I kissed her cheek, forcing her to look away from him, knowing that she would give him away if Hermione looked up. 

I wrapped my hand around her knee as she sat beside me, silently asking her how she was feeling. She gave me a small nod and I smiled, relieved. We had news of our own. But this was Draco and Hermione’s night, and we had decided that we wouldn’t overshadow it with the news that another tiny person would soon be joining our group. We could wait another week.  

Draco tugged at his tie and blew out a breath, "I think I need some air." 

Hermione looked concerned as she stood and followed him out the door. 

"She'll say yes, right?" Daphne asked, "Because it'll kill him if she doesn't" 

"She'll probably kill him for doing this," Ginny shrugged, "But, yeah, she's definitely saying yes. 

"She's saying yes," Pansy agreed, "And I know she doesn't think he's ready for this," She nodded down to her belly, "But I'm sure if she told him she was, he'd get her pregnant tomorrow."

“No, he’s definitely not ready for that,” Daphne said. “A Malfoy baby is a long way off.” 

“Fuck.” I groaned, “Imagine the fucking epic baby announcement when that happens.” 

Ginny wrapped her arm around my shoulders, and kissed my cheek, “Are you jealous, baby?” 

“No, but the bastard has to do this big epic show every time?” I grouched. “He couldn’t just get down on one knee and ask her outside the pub? I mean, that’s where he told her he loved her.” 

“No it wasn’t,” Pansy said, “It was in the bathroom at his flat, after she had a freak out, and a bathroom proposal wouldn’t be very romantic, would it?” 

“And don’t be such a killjoy.” Daphne chided, “He used to be a complete arsehole, she’s the best thing that happened to him, and he should treat her as such.” 

I grinned, looking around the table, my gaze finishing on Ginny. “Fucking Gryffindors. You turned us all into pathetic saps.” 

They all laughed, and Ginny leaned in. I discretely touched her belly as she kissed my cheek. She grinned at me and I could see exactly what she was thinking.

“Yeah, I know,” I whispered against her ear, “I’m _your_ pathetic sap.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started this at the request of many of you weeks ago. But as always happens, life gets in the way, and its taken forever to get finished. I hope you enjoy Ginny and Blaise's story from Five Dates xx


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